


Gossip

by sirconnie



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Black Character(s), Blue Hawke, Diplomatic Hawke, F/M, Female Character of Color, For the most part, Kissing, no actual sex sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 22:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7192586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirconnie/pseuds/sirconnie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at the Big Scene in the Fenris romance. Not very original, not very serious. Friendshipmance with a blue!Hawke</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gossip

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, here's an old thing I decided to tidy up and post here. There's some confusing tense, I apologize for that. I'm really not used to writing in past tense. It's also not really canon?? Because once again it's super old so a lot of this is changed within my Hawke's actual story bwahahaha anyway hope u like it

> “Mistress Hawke?”
> 
> “Orana! Perfect, come here for a second.” Hawke, surrounded by piles of unfolded clothes, beckoned her into the room. Orana looked uncomfortable, but hastened to obey, hurrying to her and stopping at a respectful distance. Her pale hands were folded and she looked up at Hawke with those big eyes.
> 
> “Yes, mistress?” Hawke winced at the title, but she’d long since stopped trying to get the girl to call her anything else. She thought just _Hawke_ was too familiar, so there was no getting around it.
> 
> “Could you help me organize these?” Hawke gestured to the strewn clothes and her open closet with a sheepish smile. “I’m having a hard time doing this right.”
> 
> “Certainly, mistress, but–”
> 
> “And would you not mention it to my mother? She’s ordered me to do it myself, but it’s starting to get out of control.” She furrowed her brow at all the dresses, pants, and underclothes scattered across the floor and her bed, at a loss of how to arrange them neatly in the closet. She didn’t even buy the dresses, her mother did, and she’d been pressing her to try them ever since. Hawke had reasoned that flowy skirts don’t mix well with the activities she usually does when she leaves the estate and they had compromised with having her wear them around the house.
> 
> Hawke was wearing one of them then, a simple deep green frock that didn’t have too long of a hem or too tight of a bodice and she thought it looked rather nice against her dark skin. Some of the other clothes in the room were gifts or impulse buys that she then regretted, as her desire to neatly put the clothes away warred with an unshakable, overwhelming laziness.
> 
> “Mistress, I would be glad to help you, but you have a visitor,” Orana said meekly while Hawke held up an undershirt she didn’t remember buying.
> 
> “Oh? Who is it?” Hawke asked absentmindedly, still peering at the shirt - is it from Lothering? The color looked a little unfamiliar, but that might’ve been the fireplace making everything in the room slightly more orange. It might have been one of Carver’s old clothes, it’s not like he had any time to pack his things before going off to be a Warden. How had his shirt gotten in here?
> 
> “One of your friends, mistress. The elf.”
> 
> “Which elf?”
> 
> “The one with the, um…the male one,” Orana finished weakly, looking down and away. Hawke chuckled – she could probably guess what she was going to say.
> 
> “Did he say what he wanted?” she asked, tossing the shirt aside and digging around the others.
> 
> “No, mistress. Shall I bring him to you?”
> 
> “Yes, please.” Hawke plopped herself onto her bed with a sigh as Orana scurried out of the room. She looked around at the mess of clothes and wondered if there’s a spell she could use to make them put themselves in order. Best not to try, as it was just as likely that she’d set the room ablaze before she got the clothes to sort themselves. She was still musing on it when the door creaked open again. She turned and grinned at her visitor.
> 
> “Hi, Fenris,” she called, hopping off the bed and tip-toeing around the clothes to get to him. “This is a surprise, you hardly ever visit.”
> 
> He didn’t reply. Just stood there, as tense as ever, looking at her with slightly less guarded eyes and lips parted. She tilted her head at him and that seemed to bring him back, blinking, but still not talking. Hawke let out a huff of a laugh and glanced at Orana, who was still standing dutifully by the door.
> 
> “That will be all, Orana, thank you.” Orana nodded and left the room, bowing as she went and closing the door behind her. Hawke looked at Fenris again and he seemed to have relaxed marginally once they were alone. “Everything alright?”
> 
> “Are you wearing a dress?” he asked, looking her over.
> 
> Hawke laughed with just a touch of embarrassment and raised her hem up slightly. “Oh, this? Just another one of my mother’s whims. It doesn’t really suit me, I know.”
> 
> Fenris shook his head, still looking at her thoroughly. “It’s…pretty.”
> 
> She paused for a moment, not sure she heard what she thought she heard. When his intense gaze reached her face, boring into her, she looked away, hooking a lock of hair behind her ear nervously.
> 
> “It’s very pretty, yes. Though, I think I’m a bit too bulky for this sort of thing, to be honest,” she said with another little laugh, busying herself with kicking some clothes under her bed or into a messy pile in the closet, anything instead of looking at him.
> 
> “I wasn’t only talking about the dress.” He stepped a little closer before stopping himself, one foot just ahead of the other.
> 
> She looked down at the leather breeches in her hands, seeing his aborted movement in the corner of her eye. A bolder part of her wanted to go to him, coax him into finishing his statement, even tell him how very appealing she finds him. That wouldn’t have been very sensible, though, and she knew it.
> 
> Or, at least, she should’ve known it. She dropped the breeches and walked over to him, stopping at a reasonable distance and looked him up and down, the way he did her. She stopped at his face and looked him in the eye before speaking, “What else were you talking about?”
> 
> Fenris looked up at her with burning eyes but didn’t answer. His hands were loose at his sides, gauntlets glowing in the firelight. She stepped a little closer, brushing her hair back over her shoulder and revealing a bit of collar bone exposed by low collar of the frock. She noticed how his eyes jumped to it and bit her lip to hide her smile.
> 
> Hawke waited until he met her eyes again. “What did you come here for, Fenris?”
> 
> “I have been thinking of you,” he finally said lowly, suddenly stalking over to her until he was just inches away, standing closer to her than he’s ever been. “In fact, I’ve been able to think of little else.”
> 
> Hawke couldn’t help the smile that spread on her face at his confession. “Really?”
> 
> He nodded, still standing so very close. She wanted to touch him, hold his armored hands, or maybe lean in through the scant space between them and kiss him, but she couldn’t. She knew how much it was probably taking for him to even be here and she didn’t want to push him. His eyes flicked down to her lips briefly and she had the dizzying thought that he was hoping for the same thing she was.
> 
> He looked into her eyes again and she felt held down by them, kept still by his burning stare. “Command me to go, and I shall.”
> 
> Hawke couldn’t believe it. Was he asking for what she thought he was asking? Her lips parted in surprise and she almost jumped into his arms right there before her own blighted good sense stopped her. She struggled to get her head together and raised a finger between her and Fenris.
> 
> “Wait right here,” she said slowly, giving him a firm look. He blinked and nodded and she rushed past him, out of the door and down the stairs.
> 
> “Orana!” she called out as she saw the elf sweeping near the fireplace. “Where is everyone?”
> 
> Orana bowed over her broom before speaking, “Bodahn and Sandal went out for dinner, mistress, and your mama went to visit your uncle.”
> 
> Hawke let out a sigh of relief. “Alright, good. I’m going to be upstairs with my friend and we can have no interruptions, alright? Unless there’s an emergency, please don’t go up the stairs.”
> 
> Orana nodded. “Yes, mistress.”
> 
> “Are you going to be okay down here?”
> 
> “Yes, mistress, I’ll just be cleaning up. The dog will keep me company.” Orana smiled down at Kiki, who had been bouncing around at Hawke’s legs, panting happily at her arrival.
> 
> Hawke crouched down and rubbed the dog’s neck. “You take care of Orana, okay?” Kiki barked a few times and nuzzled his face into her hand, jumping about and whining for attention. Orana knelt on the floor and began petting him as well, taking his attention away from Hawke long enough to allow her to escape. Hawke will have to remember to give her a raise. When she got back to her room, she almost bumped into Fenris, who had been walking out of it.
> 
> “Are you leaving?” she asked, already feeling the disappointment settle but trying not to let it show on her face as she smiled at him. He looked at her for a long moment, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.
> 
> “Yes, I…I thought you didn’t…” He didn’t finish but he hesitantly raised a hand and placed it lightly on her hip, a barely-there touch that sent waves of heat and tenderness all through her body. She took the opportunity to step closer, pushing him a little by the chest until he stepped back inside her bedroom. She followed him in and shut the door behind them, keeping her eyes on his face as she pointedly locked it.
> 
> Hawke slid her hands back up to his shoulders and bent down to lean in just a little, just enough to convince him of her intent but not so close that he can’t move away if needed.
> 
> “I do,” she breathed, looking into his eyes and daring to rub her thumb down the line of his jaw. The moment after the words left her, his mouth was on hers, hard and insistent and overwhelming even as she tried to keep up. Her mind was swimming and she might have lost it a little, she was too giddy that this was even happening. They kissed and kissed for what seemed like forever before she started stepping forward and guiding him to the bed until finally—
> 
>  

“Alright, alright, stop,” Aveline cuts in, holding her hands up with a pained face. “I think we got the gist.”

“What, no!” Isabela cries in outrage, tossing a pillow at her. “It was just getting good! Go on, what happened next?”

“Well, we had sex.” Hawke shrugs. “There’s really not much else to say.”

“Oh, come on, I want details!”

“Maker’s breath, Isabela, you know what  _sex_  is.”

“Not with Fenris, I don’t,” Isabela waggles her eyebrows with a lewd smirk. “All lean, coiled muscle and pent-up rage issues. Did he bite you?”

“Why would he bite? Wouldn’t that hurt her?” Merrill asks from the carpet where she scratches Kiki’s belly. The dog had been whining pitifully after he was forbidden from the bed by Isabela. Merrill had taken pity on him and decided to sleep on the floor with him, assuring Hawke that it was much more comfortable than her bed in Lowtown.

“Sure it would, Kitten. In all the best ways.”

Aveline groans, falling back against the mattress and pressing a pillow to her face, muffling her voice as she says, “I don’t want to hear any more. We’re too old to be gossiping about _boys_.”

“We’re also too old to be having an impromptu sleepover, and yet--” Isabella gestures to the room as a whole-- “here we are.”

“It’s not a  _sleepover_ , we’re bonding as women,” Hawke argues. “The four of us never get to spend any time together without the men.”

“That’s because the  _beast_  over there is too busy doing paperwork to ever have any fun.”

“Frankly, Isabela, I’m surprised you found time between slitting throats and spreading your legs to attend,” Aveline snarls, lowering her pillow enough to glare at her.

“I wouldn’t miss it. Speaking of, have  _you_  spread those pythons of yours for dear Donnic yet? Don’t want the poor boy to get bored, now.”

“Strumpet.”

“Crone.”

“Enough!” Hawke barks, frowning at the both of them in turn. “Didn’t I say there’d be no fighting in my house? Maker, now I’m _really_  glad I confiscated your weapons.”

“Spoilsport,” Isabela says peevishly before she flops onto her side and nudges Hawke’s bent knee. “Would you at least tell us if it was good?”

“I’d really rather not.”

“Leave her be, Isabela,” Merrill chirps, grinning up at her. “They obviously want to keep it all under wraps. Keeps it exciting, I expect.”

“There’s nothing to keep under wraps,” Hawke says, shooting her a wry smile. “We’re not together.”

“You’re  _not?_ ” Isabela exclaims, looking perplexed.

“No. Wouldn’t make much sense if we were.”

Aveline shifts until she’s facing her, “What do you mean?”

“I mean we had sex and then he left,” Hawke says a little sharply, still feeling a bit sore about it. “It was, y’know, one of those things.”

“Really?” Merrill says incredulously, hopping onto the bed and making her nightshirt flap around her narrow body. “I didn’t expect that at all, are you sure?” Hawke does something between a nod and a shrug and she pulls a frown.

“Well, that’s just out of character,” Isabela mutters thoughtfully. “Have you talked to him about it?”

“No. I expect I never will.”

“Why not?” Merrill asks, leaning towards her.

“I don’t think he wants me to,” she admits. “It took three years for us to even get here, I don’t want to ruin what we already have.”

“And sex doesn’t ruin it?” Aveline asks dubiously.

“I don’t think so? It’s been weird, but not awful.”

“Have the two of you had sex again?” Isabela asks.

“No, not since the first time.” Hawke freezes when a disturbing thought comes to mind. “Do you think it was me? Was I _bad?_ ”

“No, no, I’m sure it’s not that,” Isabela says with a flap of her hand. “Speaking from personal experience, I can honestly say that you’re  _not_  bad.” 

“I still can’t believe that happened,” Aveline says with a disgusted face. “Of all people. What would your mother think?”

“I think she’d want to have a go herself.” Isabela winks up at Hawke and laughs uproariously when she gets a face full of pillow.

“Don’t even joke about that, you silly bird,” Hawke scolds and glances down at Isabela’s legs when she sees something amiss. “Hey! What happened to the pants I gave you?” She’d had to provide sleeping clothes for both Isabela and Merrill when she’d not-so-spontaneously decided that all four of them would be spending the night in the estate. None of her pants fit Merrill, so they’d raided through Bethany’s old clothes. Isabela fit just fine, but the loose breeches she’d been wearing only moments before were gone, leaving only thick brown legs and underwear.

“It’s too hot for pants,” Isabela replies, muffled by the pillow. “You’re lucky I’m still wearing the shirt.”

“Isabela, I can’t have you walking around with no pants.”

“But I do it all the time!”

“Not in my house, you don’t.”

“The shirt covers everything anyway.”

“Now that I think about it,” Merrill says suddenly, peering at Hawke suspiciously. “You’ve slept with Isabela and now with Fenris. Are you going to sleep with all your friends? Am I next?” Hawke balks at her while Isabela barks with laughter beneath the pillow.

“No, Merrill, you’re _not_ next, _I’m not going to sleep with everyone_ ,” Hawke says evenly even through her astonishment.

“Why not? It sounds fun!” Merrill beams. “And I don’t mind going third, it’s better than being last. Who is last, by the way? Is it Sebastian?”

“Merrill.”

“Oh! Is it Aveline?” Merrill whispers from behind her hand with a furtive glance at the woman in question quietly falling into her own hyena hysterics on the other side of the bed.

“ _No_ , Maker.” Hawke combs her overlong bangs back and glares daggers at the laughing pair at her side. “Aren’t you two done?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Aveline gasps out. She collects herself and straightens before facing Hawke again. “Honestly, though. If you’re sure about not talking to Fenris about what happened, I’m certain it’ll work itself out.”

“So, just do nothing?”

“That would probably be best. You want to keep the friendship, right? Just wait for him to come to you.”

“Miss Mumbles knows  _all_  about men now, does she?” Isabela chortles.

“Shut it, pantsless.”

“No fighting,” Hawke reprimands idly as she slumps on her bed and lands with her head near Merrill’s thighs. “Why did I even do it? It’s made everything all muddy.”

“It’ll be fine,” Merrill says soothingly, brushing away the hair that fell over Hawke’s face when she lay down. “Fenris is an odd person, but I think he likes you a lot, so it’ll be fine.”

“D’you think?”

“Why not? People who like each other a lot should be together.” Hawke nods, appeased for now. She’s not even quite sure she _wants_  to be with him, but she wouldn’t be opposed to it. He’s definitely an odd person, but she’s come to like him a lot these three years. Maybe even more than on a physical level.

Well, nothing to do but wait. She doesn’t know how long she  _can_ wait, but that’s a question for another day. For now, as the room steadily gets noisier, she only has to keep Isabela from physically throwing her dog off the bed and confiscate the dagger Hawke  _knows_  she’s sneaked in. She’ll worry about Fenris in the morning. As Isabela brandishes the expected dagger at a stern Aveline holding up one of Hawke’s favorite pillows as a shield, she starts to wonder if they’ll survive that long.


End file.
